


To the Stars

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Background Arthur Pendragon/Lancelot, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Night Stands, Spaceships, background Gwen/Morgana - Freeform, medic merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Gwaine gets into a bar fight to protect a young woman, and is pulled out by a handsome medic. Merlin, crew member of Starship Camelot of the Astraeus Fleet, patches him up and the spend an enjoyable time together. They can never really shake each other after that. Even stranger, Gwaine finds he doesn't want to shake Merlin.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. Heavily Star Trek inspired. I know. Think of this as pre Star Fleet days, where Earth has just started to get a hang of all the tech that is ubiquitous in the Star Trek franchise.

Chapter 1  
Hard hands grab Gwaine by his shoulders, and hauls him away from the bar fight he’s found himself in. The sounds of shouting and fists hitting flesh fade away as the door swings shut behind him. Cool night air caresses his cheeks, and then those same firm hands, gentler than when they were pulling at him, ease him to the curb.

He gets the briefest glimpse of a figure standing above him, before the pain in his nose flares. Strong fingers prod at it, and his eyes scrunch in pain, and he lets out a small hiss of air between his teeth.

“Get off me.” He growls, preparing to kick whoever it is in the shins like a five year old if only to get away from the prodding.

“Relax,” an amused masculine voice says calmly, “I’m a medic. I’m just making sure you haven’t broken your nose.”

“Hurts.” Gwaine grunts, but stops squirming as the medic looks him over.

After several more seconds of prodding, the hands let up and the pain eases. Gwaine lets out a sigh of relief. He peels his eyes open, and is momentarily struck dumb both by the eyes, and the wide grin that accompanies them.

“Not broken,” the medic says cheerfully, “But you’ll probably have a nasty bruise for a while. You also have a cut above your eye that I would really feel better if we got closed up, but I’m not technically allowed to carry a regenerator when I’m off duty. We should take you to the hospital.”

“No hospitals.”

“Thought you might say that. At least come back to mine so I can get it cleaned out and taped up.”

Gwaine smiles, pouring every ounce of roguish charm he’s ever thought to possess into it, “Is that the only reason you want to take me to yours?”

The medic shakes his head, trying to hide his obvious amusement, “You get a knock around the head and already you’re out here flirting?”

“Well it’s not every day a handsome medic pulls me out of a bar fight and offers to patch me up,” Gwaine says, “What do they call you then?”

“I’m Merlin.” The medic responds, holding out his hand.

Gwaine takes it and gives it a squeeze, “I’m Gwaine.”

The door to the bar must reopen because the sounds of chattering people and general merrymaking spill onto the sidewalk with the golden light from the bar. It casts interesting shadows on Merlin’s face, making him look sharp and angular and dangerous.

“Merlin,” an obnoxious voice filled with concern calls out, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Arthur!” Merlin calls back, “I’m just going to make sure he’s good to get home!”

“You coming back inside?”

“Nah! I’ll meet you tomorrow!”

“Bright and early.” Arthur reminds him, and Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Oh fuck off! I was late once, you prat. And 0900 isn’t early!”

The mysterious Arthur laughs, and then must disappear back inside because the noise cuts off once more. Gwaine considers the interaction carefully. There was a good deal of affection from both sides despite the bickering, and obviously history too.

“Boyfriend?” Gwaine asks causally.

Merlin shakes his head, “Thought maybe once, but not anymore.”

“Oh?” Gwaine asks curiously, “What changed?”

“He met Lancelot.”

Merlin stands then, a little closer to Gwaine than he expected by the way he wobbles. He may not be the most graceful man, but even the clumsiest can stand without staggering around like an idiot. Gwaine brings his hands up to rest on Merlin’s thighs under the guise of steadying him. The denim under his hands is rough, so probably not 100% Earth-cotton, but a mix. Some people, mostly the rich and famous, swear by Earth-cotton, and Daxian-leather. 

He tilts his head up to look at Merlin, and flicks his hair out of his face, “The offer to go to yours still open?”

Merlin squints down at him, considering, “You know, technically, since I’m in charge of treating your abrasions that makes you my patient. It would be a serious ethics violation for me to take advantage.”

Gwaine allows his hands to creep a little higher on Merlin’s thighs, just to see him huff a little laugh, “Ah, but there’s fun to be had in danger.”

Merlin steps back then, and Gwaine’s heart sinks. He was rather hoping to go through with this. Merlin is handsome, and kind. Most of the time Gwaine will settle for just an attractive person, and a place to sleep. It would’ve been quite the treat to sleep with someone nice for a change.

To his surprise, Merlin offers him a hand up, “Don’t tell Arthur.”

“Protective is he?” Gwaine asks, and takes the offered hand.

“He’s worse than an older brother sometimes.” Merlin says with a small smile.

When Gwaine regains his feet, he crowds into Merlin’s space just to watch Merlin’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Then he takes a step back into respectable orbit, earning him from an annoyed glance out of the corner of Merlin’s eye. It makes something warm flutter in his chest.

“Lead the way.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again, then sets off down the busy London street. He sidesteps the people arriving by teleport, and those arriving by cab for the dramatics of it, with ease. Gwaine follows in his wake, happy to be silent for now.

They approach a building that is clearly a 21st century build. The rent in these places is always cheap. The workmanship from that period was always done cheaply as developers focused more on maximizing income rather than building something to last. In these places everything breaks, and there’s always a draft. It makes Gwaine wonder why Merlin lives here. Medics may not be paid as well as actual doctors, but he could still afford something a damn sight better than this.

Merlin swipes his keycard, the door buzzes unlocked, and Merlin pulls the door open. He holds it open, and gestures for Gwaine to go in ahead of him. Gwaine clasps his hands to his chest, and pretends to swoon.

“A gentleman and a hero.” He says as he steps through.

“Yes that’s really effective when your face is covered in blood.” Merlin says dryly, but his smile remains as bright as ever.

“That’s why it’s effective, Merlin old friend.”

Merlin snorts, and then leads the way up the staircase to the second floor. He swipes the card to get into his flat, and pauses just inside the door to activate the lights. They come on and flood the whole place in a blinding white light. Merlin curses under his breath, taps something into the control panel, and then the lights dim into a far more manageable low level, similar to the bar they met in.

Gwaine takes the opportunity to look around. He was expecting more personality. Maybe some posters here and there. Instead there are just light grey walls, and a couple of dusty family photos. He also definitely expected a cat. Merlin seems like the kind to find a mangy old stray missing an ear, and take it in. Gwaine does not let himself wonder what that says about him.

He turns to ask Merlin about it, but he catches sight of the emblem on Merlin’s jacket, and lets out a soft groan.

Merlin turns to him with a small frown, “What? Is something wrong? If you have a sudden headache you might have a concussion.”

“Nothing like that. Just realized you’re a member of Astraeus.”

That explains the flat then. Cheap, barely lived in. Most of Merlin’s personal affects must be in his cabin on whatever ship he works on. This is place is for when he comes home from the stars.

Merlin glances down at the damning sword and stars logo on the sleeve of his jacket, then glances back at Gwaine, “I thought you knew. The Rising Sun is frequented by Astraeus members on shore leave.”

“I didn’t know.” Gwaine says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh,” Merlin says awkwardly, “I’m the medic for Starship Camelot.”

“Hang on, does that mean the Arthur at the bar…?”

“Was Arthur Pendragon? Yes.” Merlin answers, “You stepped in to save his sister, which was very kind of you by the way. There is definitely a certain tendency for Morgana and Arthur to dig their heels in, and get into fights far above their paygrade, and Gwen tends to frown on Morgana eviscerating people.”

“Gwen?” 

“Camelot’s Doctor, and Morgana’s fiancé.” 

Gwaine sighs, and leans back against the door, “If I’d known who they were I might not have been so eager.”

Merlin frowns, adorably confused, “Why?”

“Not worth getting into danger for a governmental entity that leaves its people out to dry.”

“Arthur’s not like that. He’d rather die than let anything happen to us.”

Gwaine just hums noncommittally.

Merlin scratches the back of his neck without really looking at Gwaine, “I know we came here for… certain things, but you can just use the shower and be on your way, if you like. Just let me patch that cut before you go.”

Gwaine eases up a bit. He can’t fault Merlin for wanting to leave Earth behind. It also isn’t Merlin’s fault that he managed to step in Gwaine’s own personal issues. He’s a nice lad, and a good looking one at that. There’s no reason Gwaine should waste this opportunity.

He claps Merlin on the shoulder, rubbing his thumb where the sleeve of Merlin’s blue shirt gives way to skin. Merlin looks up then, hopeful. Gwaine smiles at him.

“I’ll take you up on the shower. Why don’t you fix us a drink?”

Merlin’s eyebrows raise, and Gwaine gets the feeling he’s hiding laughter, “Didn’t you just have four pints back at the bar?”

“Ah, but what else am I supposed to seductively sip while you tape up my face with those talented fingers of yours?”

“Shower’s down the hall. The room at the end. Clean towels are under the sink.” Merlin says, already heading into the kitchen, “I’ll patch you up when you get out. Still think we should have gone to a hospital so they could use a regenerator.”

“People dig scars.” Gwaine responds, and heads down Merlin’s hall to the bathroom. It’s small, but that’s to be expected. What he wasn’t expecting was a proper water shower. Most people just go in for the sonic ones these days, with an option for water if they have something sticky on them. A proper water shower is a treat. It must be Merlin’s indulgence after spending months on board the Camelot, knee deep in muck on strange worlds with a very limited water supply.

Gwaine turns the water on as hot as he can stand it, strips out of his clothes, and stands under the spray for a few glorious moments. Then he starts scrubbing the smell of The Rising Sun off of himself. He winces a bit when his fingers brush the cut on his head, and he understands why Merlin was so intent on taking him to a hospital. No matter. It’s not like he’s dying. Merlin’s oath as medical professional probably would have prevented him leaving Gwaine to die by way of being a stubborn ass.

When he feels properly clean, he turns off the water, squeezes some of the excess out of his hair, twists it up into a small bun at the back of his head with the elastic band around his wrist, and slings a towel around his waist. He considers dressing again, but they both know why he’s here. He may as well lean into it.

He swaggers down the hall in just a towel, and finds Merlin in the sitting room. He has a first aid kit set out on the coffee table. Gwaine grins at him, and drops onto the sofa, legs spread just enough that Merlin could look under the towel without much effort if he wanted to.

Merlin must know what game he’s playing because he ducks his head, trying to hide that big beautiful grin of his. Gwaine is beginning to get a thrill every time he makes one of those smiles happen.

“Like a dog with a bone, Jesus fuck.” Merlin mutters, and settles himself on the edge of the coffee table. He sets two fingers on either side of the cut, and does something that makes Gwaine wince. A dab of antiseptic, and a couple pieces of tape later, and his forehead is as good as new. 

He smiles at Merlin, “Do I get a treat now?”

“For the love of,” Merlin splutters, “Gwaine, you’re already in my flat. You don’t have to try so hard to seduce me.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from Gwaine’s chest, though, if pressed, he would never be able to say what weight he was carrying. His smile softens a little, going more genuine than the one he usually wears. Merlin must like it because he leans forward, and squeezes Gwaine’s knee.

“Any word on that drink?” Gwaine asks.

Merlin shrugs, “This is my first time back on earth in six months. All I have is either expired apple juice, or water.”

Gwaine chuckles, “Better pass on the apple juice then.”

“I would.” Merlin agrees.

“I suppose water wouldn’t go amiss. Never too early to start battling a hangover.”

Merlin laughs as he stands up.

“What?” Gwaine calls after him.

“Nothing,” Merlin calls back, “That was just a very responsible response from someone who got punched in the face and then came home with a total stranger.”

“You mischaracterize me,” Gwaine says as Merlin returns with two glasses of water, “I’m a free spirit, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Fair enough.” Merlin agrees, and sits next to Gwaine on the sofa. 

His arm is warm against Gwaine’s, and Gwaine’s heart does a little leap in his chest. It isn’t the first time he’s felt this, but it’s been so long since the last time that he’s surprised he recognizes it. He’s not just attracted to Merlin, he’s infatuated. That’s a dangerous feeling, and Gwaine has never been good at running from danger.

He raises his arm and drapes it across Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin sits frozen for a moment, then he shoots Gwaine a secretive little smile, and leans into his side. Gwaine’s heart does another one of those flips, and he presses a kiss to Merlin’s temple.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just sipping their water. Gwaine can’t stop turning his head to look down at Merlin, but Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, and Gwaine doesn’t mind the opportunity to look his fill. Merlin’s dark hair has started curling at the ends now that the evening fog is rolling in across the city. It makes him look a little older, a little more like the competent man he is.

Gwaine glances over again, but this time Merlin is watching him back. They watch each other in silence, then Merlin’s free hand comes up, and rests against Merlin’s cheek. His thumb brushes against Gwaine’s chin, feeling the beard.

“That’s going to feel really good against my thighs.” He remarks idly, and Gwaine jerks in surprise.

“Jesus Wept, Merlin,” Gwaine groans, heat suffusing his body, “You can’t just say things like that, my friend.”

Merlin grins that wide grin that crinkles up his eyes, “Sorry.”

It really isn’t fair that Gwaine’s heart does another little flip while he’s hard under his towel.

“Can I kiss you?” Gwaine asks, voice deeper than he was expecting.

Merlin nods frantically, “Yes please!”

Gwaine chuckles again, and leans in, pressing his mouth to Merlin’s. Merlin’s hand sneaks into his hair, loosening the bun and turning the kiss searing. The intent behind it is clear, and Gwaine groans low in his chest. They pull back for air, and Merlin’s head drops to Gwaine’s shoulder. Gwaine can’t help but card his fingers through the short hairs on the nape of Merlin’s neck.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

Merlin nods, takes Gwaine’s empty glass, and abandons both of them on the coffee table in favor of leading Gwaine to the bedroom.

*

They lay tangled together, sweat cooling between them. Merlin’s head is resting his head on Gwaine’s shoulder, and normally Gwaine doesn’t stay for the afterhours cuddle, but Merlin had blinked sleepily at him and he was sunk. He keeps one arm around Merlin’s waist, fingers brushing his hipbone just to make Merlin shiver. The other arm is tucked behind his own head.

“When do you ship off again?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning. That’s what Arthur was reminding me of when we left.” Merlin answers.

Gwaine nods, a little disappointed, “Well that’s a shame. I was hoping for a repeat performance.”

Merlin smiles, and Gwaine can feel the vibration of silent laughter against his side, “If you’re willing to wake up early then we could probably have another go.”

“How early is early?”

“0700?”

Gwaine hums as though he’s truly considering it, “Don’t know if an ass, even one as lovely as yours, is worth waking up that early after a night of drinking.”

“I see how it is,” Merlin says with false anger, “I put in all this work to keep that cut from getting infected, and you’re too lazy to get it up for me more than once.”

“You didn’t seem this dirty when we met.” Gwaine accuses.

Merlin smacks his shoulder lightly, and they fall into another comfortable silence. It’s been years since Gwaine found someone he could share silence with. He just wishes Merlin wasn’t so bent on exploring the stars.

“Why do you have a problem with Astraeus?” Merlin asks just when Gwaine thinks he fell asleep.

“Before the UN came to an agreement to have a single earth exploration agency, my father worked for Empyrea.” Gwaine admits.

Merlin props himself up on one elbow, “The exploration agency out of Dublin?”

“Yup.”

“Shit.” Merlin says and flops back down.

Anyone worth their salt knows exactly what happened to the Empyrea fleet. In a way, Gwaine is grateful that it was so public. Saves him the trouble of having to explain that his father died.

“I only met my father, once, briefly before he died.” Merlin says into the dark, “I’d like to think he’s proud of me.”

That is a feeling Gwaine knows well but, unlike Merlin. he knows the answer is probably a resounding no. Hard to be proud of someone who drifts between people, never settling, never setting goals.

He squeezes Merlin’s hip, “I’m sure he is. A medic, and one who goes traipsing through alien worlds at that? How could he not be?”

Merlin presses a kiss to his chest, “I’m sure yours is proud of you too.”

“Maybe.”

*

He’s woken the next morning by the smell of bacon. He stumbles out of bed, retrieves his pants and trousers, and staggers into Merlin’s kitchen shirtless. Merlin is standing at the stove in a pair of sweats, and a grey Astraeus tee shirt that’s seen better days. It’s all horribly domestic, and Gwaine nearly sighs with longing even though he is a grown man and not a romantic heroine in a novel. 

Merlin looks over at Gwaine and quirks a small smile, “I was planning on breakfast in bed.”

“I’m up now.” Gwaine says with a smile.

“In that case, fill the kettle would you?”

“What? No replicators?”

“Building is too old to support the electricity requirements,” Merlin says turning back to the bacon, “Besides, replicated tea is awful. Even on the Camelot I make the real stuff.”

They sit together at the chipped kitchen counter, drink tea, and eat bacon and toast. It must still be early, otherwise Merlin would be rushing to get to the Camelot in time for takeoff. It’s nice to share this kind of camaraderie with someone after so long.

“I’m sorry if I made you dig into personal stuff last night,” Merlin says, “thanks for not running out at the first sign of it.”

“It happened when I was a kid,” Gwaine explains, wanting to wipe that worried looks from Merlin’s face, “it doesn’t smart like it used to.”

“Still, thanks for not being weird about it.”

“It is what it is.” Gwaine says, and sips his tea, “Maybe if we see each other when you get back, you can tell me all about the stars.”

Merlin looks up at him then, mouth set in a hopeful-nervous half smile, “Is that what you want?”

“What?”

“To go to the stars?”

“Oh,” Gwaine considers as he chews a piece of bacon, “I suppose. I like being a drifter, nothing says unattached like interplanetary hopping. New places, new people, new things every day.”

“You could come with me.” Merlin says.

“Come with you where?”

“To the stars. We have a need for a new security officer now that Owain is back in Manchester with his wife and son, and after the way you handled yourself at the bar last night, I’m sure Arthur would be willing to test you out, and this trip is only a short hop. Three days round trip.”

Merlin looks serious, earnest. Gwaine just stops himself from staggering away from the counter in horror. Too much, too soon, no matter what the small voice in his head says about being willing to follow Merlin anywhere, or reminding him that technically he’d passed the entry exam needed for travel at twenty.

He flicks his hair out of his face with a cocky grin, “Nah. I don’t even have the qualifications to go.” It isn’t technically a lie, he’d have to recertify, but he wouldn’t have to go through all the studying again. He had done that as a teen when he thought he was going to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Merlin looks dejected, and it makes it hard for Gwaine to breathe. Someone like Merlin should never looks like that.

“You’d get sick of me after a day anyway.” He jokes, trying to get Merlin to smile.

“I wouldn’t.” Merlin says softly, and somehow Gwaine believes him.

“Give me your comm code.”

“Really?” Merlin asks, smiling again, “I didn’t think you’d want…”

Gwaine didn’t think he’d want either. “You’re a good man, and I could always use a friend.”

Merlin hands over his comm code, then clears the dishes. Gwaine helps him wash up, and put them away. There’s a peculiar swagger to Merlin’s steps as he walks to the bedroom to get changed. Normally Gwaine would blame it on a good hard fuck, but Merlin was totally out of stock of the required supplies.

“Are you alright?”

Merlin glances over his shoulder, “Hmm?”

“You’re walking funny.”

Merlin’s brows draw together in slight irritation, “Beard burn.”

A laugh tears its way from Gwaine’s chest, and Merlin flips him off. 

They share a kiss on Merlin’s door step before Gwaine loses him once more to the Camelot and the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwaine does something he’s never done before; he stays. His one night stand literally flies off to the stars, leaving him scot free of all attachments, the ultimate no strings arrangement. He could take off and be certain in his knowledge that he would be under no obligation to see Merlin again. Instead he waits. 

He checks into a crappy motel room, one so old and crummy that the lighting panels only have two settings; on or off. The sheets are musty even though the teenager at the front desk swore, without looking up from his tablet, they were changed daily. Gwaine is no stranger to unfortunate accommodations. This is still better than the time he offended the person he was seeing in Stavanger and ended up sleeping on a park bench for a night in the middle of a freezing Norwegian winter.

When he finds a suspicious stain in the sonic shower, he starts to reconsider his position. 

He spends his days wandering aimlessly around London waiting for Merlin to send another message via the comms. They exchanged one the first day, Merlin letting Gwaine know that takeoff went without a single hitch, and Gwaine telling Merlin he was glad. Since then it’s been silent. 

Gwaine isn’t used to this sensation, the trailing after someone. He stopped doing that at around age sixteen when it became clear that no one really sticks around, despite their intentions to do otherwise. He’s let people chase after him since then. Then Merlin had dragged him out of The Rising Sun, patched him up, and offered him the great expanse of the universe. He has a feeling that Merlin might have a near supernatural ability to worm his way under people’s skins with bright smiles, wry comments, and kindness in spades. How else would he end up on a _Pendragon_ ship, let alone be brothers in arms with Arthur Pendragon son of Admiral Uther Pendragon?

London is beautiful this time of year. Cool autumn air blows through the streets, carrying with it the scent of spiced drinks and pastries. It’s been a long time since Gwaine was anywhere long enough to truly appreciate the changing of seasons, or notice the gradual shift in fashion from lightweight fabrics and short sleeves to jumpers and scarves. It makes the traveler in him itch, that little warning bell that tells him when he’s been in one place too long. Every time he considers leaving over the course of those three days, though, he remembers Merlin.

He remembers the sleepy blinks that made him foolish enough to cuddle Merlin in the first place. He remembers the hopeful smile on Merlin’s face when he suggested Gwaine go with him. Frankly, he also remembers the mind blowing sex. The way his head fit between Merlin’s thighs like he was meant to be there, the way Merlin’s long fingers felt wrapped around him like it was their sole purpose.

With memories like those it’s easy to ignore the voice that tells him earnestly to cut his losses and bounce. He wants to see Merlin again. He wants more of that mind-blowing sex, yes, but he also wants the way he felt with Merlin. The ease, the joking, the ability to put his guard down. He didn’t have to be Gwaine the Rogue, or Gwaine the Slut in order to keep Merlin interested. Merlin just enjoyed Gwaine for his natural levels of disastrousness. And that is almost headier than the sex was.

So Gwaine mopes around London much like the autumn fog. He keeps a hand in his pocket, wrapped around his comm just in case Merlin finally gets a chance to send a message through. He avoids the Rising Sun even though he could really use a drink because he doesn’t want the bartenders to come to notice him, and potentially report back just how pathetic he’s been these last few days. 

On the night of the third day he finally allows himself to go to the Rising Sun again. Merlin had said it was a short hop, three days round trip. Theoretically, that means he’s back on Earth now. If he hasn’t answered Gwaine’s message, then he has a better chance of finding Merlin at an Astraeus bar than anywhere else except maybe his flat, but even Gwaine knows that showing up at Merlin’s flat unannounced is decidedly creepy and stalkerish. 

The inside of The Rising Sun is exactly how he remembers it. It’s fashioned a bit like a tavern from days long passed. Warm lights kept at a low level, dark wood scarred with decades of drinks set directly down instead of on coasters. There isn’t a single screen to be seen anywhere except for when the servers pull the pay tablets out of their pockets so patrons can transfer the appropriate credits to pay for their drinks. 

Gwaine sets himself up in the corner opposite the door, and waits some more. He nurses one beer, most of the night to the annoyance of the serving staff. It makes it more difficult for the bar to make money if people hog a table like him, but he doesn’t want to get drunk and miss it if Merlin shows up.

Merlin doesn’t show.

Gwaine calls it at around 2400 and goes back to his motel. His sheets are rumpled the same as they were this morning, even though he didn’t activate the Please Do Not Disturb function on the door. His nose wrinkles a bit at the implication of that. It’s becoming clearer that the initial cleanliness of the sheets is up for debate.

He decides to give it one more night. He’ll go back to the Rising Sun one more time, and if Merlin still doesn’t show then Gwaine will listen to the voice in his head. He’ll cut his losses, move on. South America is meant to be beautiful this time of year so maybe he’ll visit Peru, or Chile. He hasn’t been there yet. It might be time to give it a try.

He goes back to the Rising Sun the next night. This time he throws himself into the merrymaking. He doesn’t want to wallow in this strange new brand of self-pity he’s developed since his chance encounter with Merlin. If he’s going to be stood up, and he hates to even think of it that way because it’s not like he and Merlin ever made any promises to see each other again, he doesn’t want to see it coming.

He joins a card game at a corner table. Technically gambling outside of the approved locations is illegal, but the men seem to be getting around that mandate by using it as a way to decide who has to get the next round. They let Gwaine in after he offers them a charming smile, and a promise that he’s just waiting for a friend to show.

He loses his first round at roughly 2100, and graciously goes to the bar to purchase the required drinks. He’s leaning against the scarred would, grinning at the bartender (a gorgeous Obrothian with blue skin and bat ears) as she fails to fall for his charms, when he hears someone behind him say, “Hello, Gwaine.”

Gwaine turns, and his heart does a leap in his chest. Merlin is standing there, grinning at him like he’s genuinely happy to see him. Gwaine can’t help but grin back.

“Merlin!” he says happily as the bartender sets down the drink tray on the bar, “Let me just drop these off and I’ll join you.”

“Are you a waiter now?” Merlin teases as Gwaine hefts the tray.

Gwaine laughs, “I owe those fine people some drinks, but I could be a waiter if I wanted.”

“You know, generally, you’re not allowed to punch patrons.” Merlin reminds him, and trails after him across the floor.

Gwaine’s heart beats in double time against his ribs at the gesture. Even if Merlin isn’t experiencing the same intensity of feeling that Gwaine is, he still wants to be near Gwaine. He will take that as a victory.

He deposits the drink tray with his fellow gamblers, snags a pint for himself, and makes his excuses. He returns to Merlin then and gives him a playful shove on the shoulder. Merlin is squinting at him like he’s a puzzle to be figured out.

“Do you just make friends wherever you go?” Merlin asks, and the amused tone almost makes Gwiane shiver.

He shrugs, “I make acquaintances. Friend is a strong term.”

Merlin shakes his head a little, then squeezes Gwaine’s shoulder, “Come on. I want you to meet Arthur.”

Merlin’s hand is warm through Gwaine’s jacket as he drops it to Gwaine’s elbow. Merlin steers him across the room to a standing table against one wall. Gwaine had been so caught up in his card game that he hadn’t noticed the way the room filled in around him. The standing table must have been the only one open when they arrived.

“How long have you been back?” Gwaine asks as they walk.

“About six hours.” 

“I thought you said it was only a three day voyage.”

Merlin huffs an annoyed breath through his nose, “We got stuck outside of port. There was an outbreak of Cholelis on one of the ships, and they were trying to clear everyone before they let us through.” He explains as they approach the table with a young blonde man standing at it, “It was a hassle. Anyway this is Arthur, Arthur this is Gwaine.”

Arthur squints at Gwaine suspiciously, and Merlin hisses something that sounds a lot like ‘be nice’. Arthur’s eyes flick to Merlin, but he softens his gaze a bit and holds his hand out to Gwaine.

“Nice to meet you Gwaine. Merlin talked a lot about you.”

Gwaine shakes the offered hand while shooting Merlin a teasing grin, “Is that true, Merlin?”

Merlin goes faintly pink, and glares at Arthur, “I mentioned, _once_ that it would be nice if I ran into you again. Thank you for that, Arthur.”

Inside, Gwaine is doing a victory lap. Merlin talked about him. Merlin wanted to see him again. Merlin enjoyed their time together enough that he annoyed his best friend about it. 

“All you had to do is ask,” Gwaine tells him, “I would’ve said yes.”

Merlin frowns at him, getting that frustrated and confused expression Gwaine remembers from when he was trying out figure out why Gwaine hated Astraeus, “I did ask.”

It’s Gwaine’s turn to be confused, “When?” 

“The day before we got back I sent you a message over comm asking if you wanted to join us tonight.” Merlin explains.

“If you did, I didn’t get it.”

Merlin’s frown deepens and digs his comm out of his pocket. He fiddles with it for a few moments then the frown turns into a proper scowl. “It didn’t go through.”

“I keep telling you to buy a new one of those, Merlin,” Arthur says sounding oh so smug, “It’s been out of date and failing you for years.”

“You buy me a new one then,” Merlin grumbles, “You know I can’t afford it. Or better yet, you support my mother. You’re the one with a trust fund with more credits than God.”

Gwaine tenses at the barbs being exchanged. He really doesn’t want to deal with Arthur and Merlin having a row in public, and he’s just trying to figure out how to deescalate the situation, a skill he’s never really had, when Arthur tosses his head back and laughs. His grin is wide and crooked, and it reveals slightly crooked front teeth. Gwaine understands now why Merlin fancied him once.

“You know that if I thought I could convince Hunith to take so much as a single credit form me, I would give it all to her in a heartbeat.”

Merlin’s scowl relaxes, and a little smile returns, “Yeah. I know.”

Arthur takes another sip of beer, then seems to remember who he’s with, and turns to Gwaine with a laser focus, “So Gwaine, what do you do?”

They’re really going to play this game. Arthur is really going to play the rich arrogant best friend who looks down on anyone not exactly like him, and doesn’t believe anyone is good enough for his best friend. Gwaine leans into his role in this little tête-à-tête. 

“Oh a little of this, a little of that.” He answers vaguely.

“And what does a little of this entail?”

“Arthur,” Merlin says warningly, “You better put the ruler away, Lancelot is here.”

The change is almost immediate. Arthur leans away from the table, sneer dropping from his face. He wipes his hands nervously on his trousers, and tries to fix his hair in the reflection on the window. Merlin shoots Gwaine an amused smile about the whole thing.

A dark haired man a couple inches taller than Arthur joins their table then. He presses a sweet kiss to Arthur’s cheek, and pulls Merlin into a quick hug. Then his eyes find Gwaine’s and the smile turns more polite and curious than happy, but no less genuine.

“I’m Lancelot.” He introduces himself, and holds his hand out. He exudes a sort of calm nobility that normally would drive Gwaine up the wall, but Lancelot’s eyes are warm and kind. 

“Gwaine.” He responds, shaking the offered hand.

“Lancelot is one of the engineers on the Camelot.” Merlin says by way of explanation, “We think he’s the best one by far, but we aren’t allowed to play favorites.”

“Merlin thinks all of his friends are the best,” Lancelot says and wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist, “Are you the Gwaine Merlin talked about the last few days?”

“The one and only.” 

Merlin elbows Gwaine with a roll of his eyes, “Don’t get too flattered, or your head will get as big as Arthur’s.”

Arthur splutters from across the table while Merlin smirks at him, but before Arthur can formulate a response, Lancelot chuckles softly and shakes his head. He murmurs something in Arthur’s ear, and the two of them walk to the bar, no doubt wanting to get Lancelot a drink.

Merlin is still smirking when he turns to Gwaine, “I like doing that when Lancelot is around. It means Arthur can’t get back at me like he usually does.”

“A sound strategy,” Gwaine says and get the impulse to draw Merlin close and kiss the smile off his lips, but settles for draping a friendly arm Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin tucks himself closer to Gwaine’s side and Gwaine temporarily loses the ability to breathe, “How long have they been together?”

“Six months. They were both in love with Gwen, but when she chose Morgana, they started pining over each other. Took them ages to figure out that they wanted to be together.”

“How long have you known Arthur then?”

“About seven years. We roomed together our second year in uni and never really untangled from each other.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t think Uther Pendragon would allow his only son to share a dorm.”

“It was Arthur’s idea. One of the few times he’s ever stood up to his father.”

“I take it you’re not a fan?”

Merlin scowls, “He’s a closet bigot, and treats Arthur like shit. If it was legal to punch people…”

A little shiver runs through Gwaine at the dark promise in Merlin’s voice and he leans in so he can whisper in Merlin’s ear, “That might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Merlin bursts out laughing, “Glad to know my bedroom talk was that disappointing.”

“What was it like rooming Arthur?” Gwaine asks, feeling warm and tingly from making Merlin laugh.

“Awful at first. We hated each other. But once he stopped being an arrogant prat, and I stopped hiding disgusting photos from my bio classes in his things, we got on. We just decided to keep rooming together after that. We went through our year of Astraeus training together too.”

“Convenient both of you wanting to go through the program.”

“Oh I went because of Arthur.” Merlin admits and takes a sip of his beer.

Gwaine’s chest tightens. The idea of Merlin following Arthur wakens something dark in his chest. With a jolt he realizes he’s jealous. He’s jealous of the closeness between them, a closeness he’s not sure he’ll get with Merlin.

“Oh?”

Merlin shrugs, “I wasn’t in a good place in uni. I didn’t really have any goals and only went because my mother would’ve been miserable if I didn’t. I chose bio and xenobio because I was good at it, not because I wanted to do anything with it. Arthur was getting a degree in political science so he could join the command track at Astraeus. He kept talking about it, had the applications bookmarked on his computer and everything. After a while I just kind of decided to go along for the ride, see if I liked it. Never looked back.”

“That’s a lot of dedication.” Gwaine says tightly.

Merlin looks up at him and smiles softly, “He’s a bit like a planet. He tends to pull people into his orbit whether you want to or not. His head alone is big enough to create its own gravitational pull.” 

Just like that the tension Gwaine is carrying, breaks. Merlin and Arthur may love each other, may live in each other’s pockets, and know each other’s family, but it’s all familial. They are closer to brothers than anything. Gwaine doesn’t have to compete with Arthur bloody Pendragon.

“Well, consider me grateful for his orbit.”

“Why?”

“If you hadn’t joined Astraeus, you might not have ever come here, and I would never would have met you.” Gwaine says honestly.

Merlin stares at him, and a soft smile curls up the corners of his mouth, “That’s not a line.”

“Nope.” Gwaine agrees, and takes a large gulp of his forgotten beer.

“Want to get out of here?” Merlin asks.

“What about Arthur and Lancelot?” Gwaine asks.

“Trust me, they’re planning on abandoning us too. The only reason they haven’t is because Lancelot makes Arthur be polite.”

“Well, in that case…”

*

Gwaine presses a kiss to the top of Merlin’s spine, and Merlin drags open his sleep heavy eyes to smile at him. The grey pre-dawn light filters in through one window, making Merlin look pale and statuesque. No one who had seen that could blame Gwaine for wanting to press his lips there.

“How long are you in town?” Gwaine whispers.

“A week.” Merlin answers, voice rough from sleep.

“Can we do this again before you go?” Gwaine asks, and presses another kiss against Merlin’s skin, at his shoulder.

Merlin hums sleepily, eyes sliding shut for a moment, before blinking his eyes open again, “Where are you staying?”

“Bunnyhop Inn.”

Merlin’s face wrinkles in disgust, “Why there?”

“It’s cheap.”

“They have bed bugs.”

“I’ve avoided them so far.” Gwaine laughs.

“Stay here.”

“What?”

Merlin shifts onto his side so he can look at Gwaine better, “Stay here. We’re having fun, and it’s stupid for you to pay for a motel room when you can crash here.”

Gwaine agrees before the voice in his head can tell him to run for the hills.

*

They’re sitting at the chipped kitchen counter again, Merlin doubled over his mug of tea with laughter. Gwaine thinks he could get addicted to the way Merlin laughs.

“You send home credits to your mother?” he asks, wanting to know any details about Merlin that he’s willing to share.

“She had some health problems when I first joined Astraeus. She hasn’t been able to work for a few years now, but she’s getting better. Normally the support from the government would be enough, but she has a tendency to try to feed everyone in Ealdor. I support her where I can.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“What?”

“Your kindness.”

Merlin blushes scarlet, and it makes Gwaine’s breath catch in his throat.

*

“Sure I can’t convince you to come with me? You’d liven the place up.” Merlin asks as he repacks his bag.

“Still not certified, Merlin.” Gwaine reminds him. He thinks one day that excuse might run out.

Merlin sighs, then slings his bag over his shoulder, “How long are you planning on staying in London?”

Gwaine shrugs, “I go where the wind takes me.”

Merlin presses his lips together in the way Gwaine has learned means he’s thinking of something reckless. Then he fishes a keycard out of the outside pocket of his bag and holds it out.

“In case you’re staying for a while. Don’t want you to have to go back to the Bunnyhop.”

“Merlin—” Gwaine starts to protest.

“Just take it. I pay for the rent on this place even though I won’t be here for the next six months. Someone may as well get use out of it. If you leave London it also opens the mailboxes outside the building and you can leave it in there for me for when I get back.”

“What if you get locked out?”

“I won’t. Arthur also has a spare. Take it, please?”

And Gwaine, King of No Strings, takes the key to someone else’s flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Gwaine stares at Merlin’s mailbox, key clenched in one hand. He knows he should deposit the key, and fly off to whatever his next destination is. The affection he feels for Merlin, no matter how close it comes to being requited, has come on far too quickly for it to be healthy. When he started caring about things like his own health, he’s not sure, but he thinks it might have started when Merlin hauled him out of the Rising Sun and patched him up out of the kindness of his heart.

The point is, he should leave. He should shut down the part of him that is begging for him to give this a chance, and be on his merry way. His intent for going back to the Rising Sun a week ago was to fuck Merlin out of his system, but then he’d gone and got all caught up in emotions, the way Merlin looked in the early morning light, the way Merlin is always quick with a smile or an amused huff, but keeps his laugh close to his chest. Hell, Gwaine even got caught up in the way Merlin bickered with Arthur like they were an old married couple. None of this is normal, and Gwaine knows he should leave Merlin wanting more, go before everything turns sour.

He stares at the mailbox with Merlin’s flat number embossed on it, and tries to will his hand to move. He must look like a nutter standing there, glaring at a mailbox like it might bite him, but no matter how much he stares at it, it doesn’t spontaneously open for him. He sighs, pockets the keycard once more, and walks to the little corner grocery. _I’ll stay until I know what my next move is,_ he tells himself. _I’ll stay just long enough to buy a ticket somewhere warm and tropical, and then I’ll leave_.

It starts a routine. Every morning he wakes up, responds to whatever comm message Merlin sent him at odd hours of the night, eats a bit of toast, and then heads out for the day. Every morning he has a five minute standoff with the mail box, before giving up and wandering off to do whatever it is that he has planned. He spends his nights on Merlin’s surprisingly comfortable couch. Even though he is fairly certain Merlin wouldn’t mind the use of his bed, it feels weird to be in it when he isn’t home. Every night he tells himself that he’s going to wake up the next morning and check for the best ticket deals, and every morning he conveniently finds something else to do.

He lives with that delusion for about a week, until he is forced to admit that he still hasn’t looked up tickets to Brazil, or Peru, or anywhere else. He convinces himself of another excuse then. He tells himself he’s just house sitting. He’s done that for close acquaintances before, and surely after spending nearly a week in Merlin’s pocket he can call Merlin a close acquaintance if not a friend. If anyone asks, not that they ever do, he says he’s house sitting.

That delusion lasts only about a week as well, before he gives up and admits he just wants to be here when Merlin gets home. Only, admitting that to himself makes him realize how creepy it is to be camping out in a bloke’s flat in the hopes of seeing him again. The creepiness is tempered slightly by the fact Merlin gave him a key, but it still feels weird. So he gives in and sends Merlin a comm message.

‘How would you feel about moving in together’ he asks one evening after one too many beers to pluck up the courage to ask.

‘Isn’t that a bit fast?’ comes the reply about half an hour later, ‘We’ve only been seeing each other a week.’

‘Yeah. But I don’t seem to be leaving London any time soon and I feel weird about being in your flat without a proper reason.’ Gwaine responds

‘I told you, you could stay as long as you need’ Merlin sends back, and Gwaine can almost see his face. The concerned little wrinkle between his eyebrows, the bright blue earnestness of his eyes.

‘I know but you have to see how creepy it is’

‘I do actually. Arthur gave me an earful about it when he found out.’

‘oh?’

‘He was concerned you were an axe murderer.’

‘Smart man.’  
‘I’m not, by the way. If I was going to murder you I’d use some of the nasty supplies in that monster first aid kit you keep under the kitchen sink’

‘Duly note’ Merlin responds and Gwaine can imagine the amused huff.

‘So what do you say? Add me as your flat mate at least until you come back and we can discuss it properly.’

‘I’ll send you the lease agreement tomorrow’

Gwaine grins to himself, and sets his comm on Merlin’s rickety coffee table. He’s never been a flat mate before, not properly. The longest he’s ever stayed in one place was two months, and that was because he was legally prohibited from leaving until he was cleared from the suspect list. He wonders, idly, how Michael is doing in prison these days.

He tugs the sheet up around his chin, punches his confiscated pillow into a more comfortable shape, and settles down. The sheet smells like the detergent Merlin uses when he’s home. It does little to remind him of the actual man. Even after a week at home, Merlin still smelled like whatever detergent they use on board the Camelot. There’s still something about getting to smell the scent that Merlin personally likes that fills him with warmth.

He closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep. He can’t remember his dreams when he wakes, but that’s par for the course really. What he does remember is that they were all warm, and featured Merlin and him in this dingy little flat together.

He checks his comm, and the lease agreement is waiting for him as promised. Within a few clicks, he is officially Merlin’s flat mate. He sits on the couch and looks around the flat with fresh eyes. He vaguely knows that flat mates pitch in around the house. He’s already doing his own laundry, and washing his own dishes, but he feels like he should be doing something else. He wants to leave the place better than when Merlin allowed him to move in.

He spends the day cleaning of all things. He dusts, and removes cobwebs. He fixes the leaky faucet in the bathroom, and tightens the screws in the wobbly towel rack. He mops the cheap linoleum floor of the kitchen and dining-and-entry-area, and hoovers the bedroom and sitting room. It is the most bizarre way he’s ever spent a day, and that includes the time he spent an entire day foraging for mushrooms in Sweden. It’s satisfying as well, though, like he’s living up to his end of a bargain.

‘How do you have so much dust everywhere’ he asks Merlin that night when he is snuggled back down on the couch.

‘I’m never there to clean it and unlike Arthur I can’t afford to pay a maid service to come clean it.’ Merlin sends back, then, ‘Feel free to take care of that.’

‘Already have my friend.’ Gwaine responds with a smug grin that only he can see.

‘Best flat mate ever. I used to find Arthur’s shit everywhere when we shared a space’.

‘Glad to know you prefer my company to his highness Prince Pendragon’

‘I will pay you ten credits if you say that to his face next time you see him.’

‘Make it twenty and it’s a deal.’

‘Fifteen?’

‘Fine. Fifteen and you do that thing with your tongue.’

‘Fifteen, I do that thing with my tongue, if you do that thing with your beard.’

‘Should I be worried about your obsession with my facial hair?’

‘Probably.’

‘I suppose I can live with these terms.’

‘Best flat mate ever.’

Gwaine snorts and once more sets his comm aside in order to sleep.

The next few months pass in a similar fashion. He keeps the flat tidy, fills their fridge with groceries, pauses to marvel at sharing a fridge with someone, and flirts outrageously with Merlin over comms. He realizes that at some point he found somewhere that makes him happy. He feels like he finally belongs somewhere, and he lets himself believe he means London and not at Merlin’s side.

At month four, Gwaine receives a message from Merlin in the middle of the afternoon. He isn’t sure what kind of routine they have on the Camelot, but Merlin always seems to be busy from 1500 to 2000. Getting a message from him at 1730 is enough to catch Gwaine’s attention.

‘Wanted to ask you something.’

‘What’s that?’

‘We’re coming back to earth for a few days, unexpected interruption. Should be back in about two weeks.’

‘What’s the question?’

‘We won’t be landing in London, but Dublin isn’t so far away, right?’

‘Is this your way of asking if I’ll meet you?’

‘Yes. It’s just… well Gwen and Morgana want to meet you properly. And Elyan and Percy don’t seem to believe you exist. I think they have a bet going with Leon about it.’

‘Are you asking me to meet your family?’

‘Not my biological one, but yes.’  
‘Sorry. You can say no. I know we’re still existing in this weird flat mates/friends who sleep together thing. I only ask because if I’m on earth then I want to see you.’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Really?’

Gwaine can picture Merlin’s excited grin so easily, and once again is filled with the desire to put that smile on his face whenever possible. He finds himself hard pressed to deny Merlin anything. If Merlin suggested they get matching tattoos, Gwaine might heavily consider it before saying no, especially if Merlin got all hopeful and adorable about it.

‘Yes.’

‘We’re staying at the Mercia Hotel.’

‘You staying with Arthur?’

‘That was the plan, but I think I could swing a room for us.’

‘Don’t bother. Let Lancelot and Arthur be sickeningly in love, and come stay at my flat.’

‘You have a flat in Dublin?’

‘Inherited it from my uncle.’

‘Why are you staying at mine then?’  
‘Not that I’m kicking you out. I only ask because mine is a hell hole and yours must be much nicer.’

That’s the kicker isn’t it? Even if he felt the need to suddenly put down roots somewhere, he didn’t need to sleep on a couch in a grubby flat in London. He could’ve gone home, or as close to home as he’s ever wanted, and lived in much nicer accommodations. Instead he stayed where he was. He knows why, but he feels like telling Merlin the truth violates the semi-casual code they’ve built up.

‘I’m very fond of the home brew at the Rising Sun.’ he settles for answering. If Merlin reads between the lines on that one, then that’s on him. Gwaine hasn’t said any of the sappy ridiculous things he’s actually thinking.

‘Funny,’ Merlin replies, ‘I’m starting to see the appeal myself.’

Gwaine should not be grinning as hard as he is at that. It isn’t exactly a love confession from ether of them, but it feels like maybe it’s the beginning of one. Is it possible to just click with someone like this? Is it possible to feel like two gears that work in tandem after only really spending ten days together in person?

He doesn’t hesitate to buy the ticket to Dublin, like he did with tickets to some new exciting South American city such as Huancayo. He sits at Merlin’s chipped kitchen counter with his hair tied back in a bun because he hasn’t had time to wash it yet, and uses Merlin’s old computer to purchase a ticket to Dublin for the date in question.

A couple weeks later, he strides into the bar of the Mercia Hotel. He shifts anxiously, and tugs at his leather jacket like it’s somehow going to be more presentable if he can just pulls it into the right position. He’s washed his hair this time, and combed it properly instead of just tying it up the second he stepped out of his shower. He tells himself that he isn’t trying to make a good impression on Merlin’s friends, but he knows that that is his goal. He’s let his beard grow in a little fuller than he normally would; not enough for a full mountain man look, but enough that there’s a difference. He did make certain promises after all. 

A moment later, he sees Merlin waving like a loon from one corner of the bar. His hair is a touch longer than the last time Gwaine saw him. It’s nowhere near being long, but it does curl a little against the tops of his ears. He is surrounded by people that must be the crew mates from the Camelot. Gwaine stops down the instinct that tells him to run far away, that tells him this is getting too serious.

He crosses the room, and Merlin meets him halfway, immediately tugs him in close, and smiles that blinding smile Gwaine has dreamt about so many times. Gwaine, overwhelmed with affection, reaches up and ruffles Merlin’s hair.

“It’s good to see you again.” He says, and Merlin chuckles all pleased and a little bashful.

“It’s good to see you too,” Merlin says softly, still grinning, “Come on, I want you to meet everyone.”

He follows Merlin over to the table that was commandeered by the Camelot, and does a double take. Merlin completely forgot to mention everyone he works with is bloody gorgeous. He assumed that Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot were the outliers, but he was wrong.

Gwen, the doctor of the Camelot, is lovely in the same way spring time is. Morgana, her fiancé and translator and unofficial security member, is sharp and dangerous like a bird of prey, but softens the second she lays eyes on Gwen. Elyan, Gwen’s brother and the Camelot’s navigator, is all friendliness and warmth. Leon, first mate, is somehow dorkier than Merlin but like Merlin makes it work with a certain charm. Percival, who Gwaine incorrectly assumes is head of security given the huge mass of muscle, is one of the pilots.

Gwaine expects to feel boxed out, like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t. Instead he is welcomed in with open arms. He’s pretty sure what seals it is when he hauls Arthur in for a manly clap on the back and says, “How are you, Prince Pendragon?”

Gwen muffles her laughter in her pint. Morgana’s eyes light up with the knowledge she has another thing to tease her brother about. Elyan, Leon, and Percival are all doubled over with laughter. Even Lancelot is biting his lip to keep from laughing at his boyfriend. 

Arthur splutters for a few moments, then fixes his eyes on Merlin with a steely eyed glare, “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

“Consider it payback for when you made everyone call me Master Wizard for a month.” Merlin says with an unrepentant grin.

“I’m going to get you back for this.” Arthur promises darkly.

“They’ve been doing this since Uni.” Leon informs Gwaine with a wry smile, “They’ll get it out of their systems in a moment. Can I get you a pint?”

Gwaine spends quite the enjoyable night with everyone, and he understands now why Merlin takes to the stars. Some of it may in fact be his deep love for new and exciting places, but he has a family on the Camelot. He has people to watch his back, and take the piss in equal measure. Gwaine’s spent a total of two hours with them, but even he is loath to give up the easy enjoyment.

He drops an arm over Merlin’s shoulders as they leave the Mercia, and Merlin snuggles close. There’s no longer the winter cold in the air, but spring nights can still get chilly and Gwaine is happy to lend some body heat to Merlin.

They stumble into his flat after walking a few blocks, and it’s a strange mirror of their first meeting. This time its Merlin walking around _his_ disused flat, Merlin investigating everything like it might reveal something more about the person he’s with. Gwaine’s nose doesn’t hurt this time around, and that’s a vast improvement.

Merlin has to leave in the morning, but Gwaine isn’t going to let the melancholy of a time limit dampen the mood. He crowds Merlin back against a pristine countertop, and kisses him hotly, with just a hint of teeth. Merlin groans beneath him, and tangles his hand in Gwaine’s hair. It tugs a little, and Gwaine’s knees go weak with the sensation. They pull back, panting against each other.

“I think you promised me that thing with your tongue.” Gwaine says lowly, and a mischievous grin blooms across Merlin’s face.

“Only if you do the thing with your beard.” He reminds.

“Have a thing for facial hair, Merlin, old friend?”

Merlin hums, contemplating the question, “A bit, but I’ve never felt this way about Leon’s so it might just be how good yours looks on you.”

Gwaine chuckles, and tugs Merlin back in for another kiss. They stumble to Gwaine’s room, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The sheets are much nicer than the ones Merlin keeps in his own flat, but Gwaine doesn’t like them nearly as much.

*

The harsh shrieking of a call coming in on the comms startles Gwaine awake. Next to him, Merlin jerks upright, blinking into the early morning light.

“Sorry.” Gwaine says gruffly and presses a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin grumbles sleepily, then buries himself back under the covers, and Gwaine smiles at the sight. He could be quite happy waking up to this every day.

He grabs the comm, and exits the bedroom with a soft, “This is Gwaine.”

“Gwaine, it’s your mother.”

Gwaine bites back a groan. He should’ve checked who was calling before answering. He makes it a habit of dodging his mother’s calls, and they are both much happier for it. But it’s too late to do anything about this call now.

“What is it, Ma?”

“I heard you were back in town, and I need your help if you can be bothered to stay long enough.”

“Tell me what it is before I agree to anything.”

“I agreed to take care of my neighbor’s daughter in the late stages of her pregnancy, but I didn’t know how much work it was going to be when I said. I can hardly leave her alone to go run errands.”

“You want me to stay and help you deliver a stranger’s baby?”

“Not the actual delivery!” his mother exclaims with a great deal of horror, “Just fetch things, drive her to appointments if I can’t take her.”

“Why doesn’t she just take a transport?”

“Pregnant people can’t take transports, you know that. Honestly, it’s not like you have anything else scheduled.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He has zero desire to help, but if he says no she’s going to get all weepy about it, and he doesn’t want to deal with that. He finds himself agreeing just to shut her up. He ends the call with a muttered curse.

“So I guess there’s no point in asking you to come with me this time.” Merlin says from the bedroom doorway, and Gwaine startles.

He turns to face Merlin and shrugs apologetically, “I knew that dealing with her might be the cost of the trip. Can’t say I regret it though?”

Merlin smiles that soft little smile, and tugs Gwaine into a chaste kiss, “Just… tell me when you leave Dublin again? I want to know where to find you.”

“I want you to know where to find me.” Gwaine agrees.

It isn’t nearly as earth shattering as he thought it would be to admit.


	4. Chapter 4

Gwaine wakes to a series of soft, but insistent knocks at his front door. He groans into his pillow, then swings out of bed and snags a shirt from the pile of questionably clean laundry on the chair in his room. He staggers out of his bedroom, and makes his way to the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Assuming it’s the young woman he’s been helping with the last few months, he calls out, “If you’re going into labor, you’re meant to contact my ma!”

He grabs the keys to the car, preparing to rush her out and call his mother on the way to hospital, and pulls the door open. The person outside is definitely not pregnant, or even female. Instead, it’s Merlin. Gwaine’s heart soars, and he feels a grin spread across his face. They’d abruptly lost contact two weeks ago, and Gwaine would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.

Merlin looks like shit. He’s paler than Gwaine has ever seen him. His hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week, and he has dark circles under his eyes.

“Merlin old friend, you look terrible.” Gwaine says.

It makes Merlin smile and huff a little laugh, he punches Gwaine lightly on the shoulder, “Likewise.”

Gwaine steps aside and gestures Merlin inside. Merlin smiles with relief, bends down, grabs a duffle bag that’s seen better days, and steps into Gwaine’s flat. It must look different than the last time Merlin visited. Then it had been dark, and people hadn’t lived in it in well over three years. The sleek ridiculous couch that is in no way as comfortable as Merlin’s, has a couple of Gwaine’s jackets tossed over the back. The immaculate marble countertops have dishes stacked on them that Gwaine didn’t have the time to clean yesterday before collapsing face first into bed. Turns out prenatal appointments are exhausting, and no nonsense, and also incredibly awkward when every single doctor asked if you were the father, and you had to explain you were just a glorified chauffer.

“What are you doing here?’ Gwaine asks as he shuts the door.

Merlin grimaces and rubs the back of his head, “Is it okay that I’m here? I know I just sort of showed up.”

“You’re always welcome. Was just surprised.” Gwaine promises.

Merlin sends a hopeful glance towards the living room, and then turns back to Gwaine, “Can we sit? I’m exhausted.”

Gwaine slides the duffle bag from Merlin’s shoulder, tosses it in the bedroom, and leads the way to the living room. Merlin collapses onto the uncomfortable couch with a slight wince. Gwaine sits next to him, and stretches one arm along the back of the couch.

“Tell Uncle Gwaine all about it.”

Merlin wrinkles his nose, “Can you not refer to yourself as my uncle when I’ve had you in my mouth, please?”

Gwaine grins, the joy at seeing Merlin again spreading through him and making him want to say stupid things like, “What? Not your kink? Is it just the Uncle thing or is daddy out of the question?”

Merlin makes the face he does when he’s trying not laugh, and says very seriously, “I hate you.”

“Fine thing to say to a man you came to in distress.” Gwaine says, mock offended.

For a moment, Merlin sags tiredly against Gwaine’s shoulder. Then he lets out a weary sigh and says, “We were sabotaged.”

“What?” Gwaine shouts, worry flooding his veins at the thought of any of the Camelot crew getting hurt, “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Merlin nods, “It wasn’t a systems sabotage, but the Camelot was stopped for a routine check on the edge of Astraeus controlled space and they found thirty crates of smuggled weapons on board.”

Gwaine wraps an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and squeezes, “What’s happening now? Do they have any idea who did it?” 

“They’re investigating. Almost none of the authorities believe us when we say that there’s no possible way that Arthur could have done this,” Merlin says and an edge of desperation creeps into his voice, “The only reason we weren’t all hauled off the Camelot in cuffs and court-martialed is because Arthur is Uther’s son. I don’t even think Uther cared so much about Arthur potentially being a smuggler so much as what it would do to the Pendragon name if it was true. They told us that none of us are allowed to see each other until after the investigation is concluded, not even Gwen and Morgana even though they’re engaged, and I didn’t want to stay at my flat alone waiting for whoever thought sabotaging us was a good idea to maybe come back, and I didn’t want to drag my mum into this, so I came here…”

“Merlin, breathe.” Gwaine says softly, rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles into Merlin’s shoulder, “It’ll all be okay.”

“Arthur didn’t do it. I swear he didn’t.” Merlin says, looking up at him with damp blue eyes.

Gwaine smiles reassuringly. He and Arthur may have an odd dynamic that relies solely on them hating each other so much that it turned into friendship, but there’s one thing he knows will inevitably be true about Arthur. He’s a noble bastard. If he was ever going to be caught smuggling, it wouldn’t be weapons. It would be something like a rare vaccine that the government couldn’t afford to stockpile. 

“I know. Princess is an ass, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t run weapons.”

“Thank you for believing me.”

Merlin sounds so lost when he says it, like his world is crumbling around him. Gwaine supposes it is in a way. The little core group of the Camelot is as much his family as his mum. Arthur is like a brother to him. No doubt this has rattled him. He isn’t used to picking up before the pieces can hit the ground like Gwaine is.

Gwaine draws him in close, and presses a kiss to his temple, “You can stay here until the investigation gets sorted.”

“That could take years. We may never get an answer, and we’ll never be allowed to fly again.”

“They’ll find who did it, and you _will_ fly again.” Gwaine promises, “Why do you go get a shower, love, and then you can take a nap.”

Merlin laughs and wipes away a few tears that squeeze out at the action, “I have a melt down on your couch, and you call me love. You’re nuts.”

Gwaine smiles himself and ruffles Merlin’s hair, “Never proclaimed to be otherwise. Go on.”

Merlin drags himself off the couch with monumental effort, and shuffles down the hall to shower. Gwaine watches him go, heart big and warm in his chest. The idea of Merlin with him for months on end makes him want to jump up and down and cheer like a young man playing footie. He misses Merlin when he’s gone. Comm messages, and vidcons are just not the same as having him here. They don’t compare to the reality of having Merlin in his arms, or making fun of him for something. He’s gone soft in his old age.

He heaves himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. Merlin has spent enough time feeding him when Gwaine crashed at his place, that Gwaine can repay the favor. He dismisses the idea of cooking up a full English for two reasons. For long as Gwaine has known him, Merlin hasn’t been a big breakfast kind of man, preferring smaller portions and lighter fare. The second is that in order to get it all done by the time Merlin comes staggering back out of the bathroom, Gwaine would have to use the replicator, and Merlin deserves non replicated food after spending the last few months on the Camelot with nothing but. No matter what people swear, there is a difference in both texture and taste. 

He makes omelets. They aren’t the fanciest thing in the world, but they’re quick. Plus once you toss some ham in there, and add cheese and peppers, they taste quite good. They’re also filling, which is an added bonus because going by the haggard look on Merlin’s face, it’s been a while since he ate. He plated both omelets just as Merlin comes around the corner. He’s just in a towel, and his hair drips steadily onto his shoulders. Gwaine wishes he could appreciate all the pale skin presented to him, but Merlin look about ready to fall over.

“Come on,” Gwaine urges, “Eat something and then you can crash.”

Merlin sits on one of the black designer stools on the other side of the counter, and stares at his omelet like he’s forgotten how to eat. He looks up at Gwaine and says, “I’m allergic to eggs.”

“What? Really? I could’ve sworn you made eggs one of the times I stayed over.”

Merlin’s lips quirk up into a little mischievous smile, and Gwaine shakes his head.

“Alright wise guy, eat up so I can have my wicked way with you.”

Merlin shoves half of the omelet into his mouth in one bite, and Gwaine watches in equal amount of fascination and horror as Merlin chews. He swallows it with seemingly no issue, and washes down the monster bite with some of the water Gwaine poured him. 

“I promise we’ll shag while I’m here, but not right now. I think I might fall asleep in the middle, no matter how good you are at it.” Merlin says apologetically.

“You don’t have to pay back my hospitality with sex, Merlin. We can shag or not shag whenever.”

“You’re not nearly as much of a lothario as you like to claim.” Merlin teases, and shoves the second half of the omelet into his mouth.

Gwaine’s nose wrinkles a bit at sight, but he directs his attention back to Merlin’s statement, “You’re my only friend. Not going to give you a reason to run from me.”

Really, Merlin is more than a friend to him. Gwaine has never done commitment, or monogamy, at least not since Rose rejected him when he was seventeen, but he’d go back to it for Merlin. He’d become celibate if that’s what Merlin wanted out of a romantic relationship. It would be difficult, and Merlin probably wouldn’t ask him to anyway, but the point still stands. Merlin is someone who means something to him.

Merlin washes down the second half of his omelet, and smiles softly, “You’re my friend.”

“Let’s get you into bed.” Gwaine says, ushering Merlin from the counter. Merlin protests, crying something about needing to clean up. He drops it when Gwaine growls, “leave it” in his ear. He bundles Merlin into the bed, draws the covers over his shoulders, and slide in next to him.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist and presses his head against Merlin’s bare back, “Going back to sleep. I didn’t get to sleep until late last night.”

Merlin laughs and Gwaine can feel the vibration against his face, “I thought not sleeping was your thing.”

“Turns out there’s a reason people use those free condoms and free birth control. That baby is bloody exhausting, and it hasn’t even come out yet.”

“It hasn’t? Wasn’t she already in late stages last time I was here?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine grunts, and pulls Merlin closer to him in the bed, “She’s due to pop any day. Go to sleep.”

Merlin settles after that, tiredness winning out. Just when Gwaine thinks Merlin has fallen asleep, and is nearly there himself, Merlin reaches up, and tangle their hands together. Gwaine smiles, presses a gentle kiss to Merlin’s back, and squeezes his hand.

Merlin is still there when Gwaine wake a few hours later. They shifted a little over the course so that Gwaine’s arm is draped over Merlin’s back, but they’re still somehow holding hands. Merlin’s face is mushed into a pillow in a distinctly unflattering way, not at all like the other times they’ve woken up together. All those times Merlin had looked like art, dreamy and romantic. This is Merlin knockdown, drag out tired. Gwaine waits for the infatuation to break then. If anything is going to suddenly put a damper on his feelings for Merlin if they aren’t genuine, is seeing Merlin like this. Merlin look completely human.

All Gwaine feels is a tingling affection in his chest. Merlin is ridiculous, and Gwaine could not be happier about it. He will take a goofy, ridiculous Merlin in his bed over any of the numerous model gorgeous people he’s ever slept with. Gwaine has never considered himself a connoisseur of anything, but he supposes he’s slept with enough of them to be a connoisseur of people. Merlin is gorgeous. He may not get contracted to model for any publication, but only because those people are fools.

Merlin is all angles. His smile is wide and uninhibited. His laugh can light up a room. His eyes are so very blue, and they always betray what he’s thinking. And when he sleeps after a long day, his face gets all squashed by the pillow. He’s the best thing in Gwaine’s life.

Merlin stirs awake while Gwaine is busy looking at him, and turns his head so that he can look at Gwaine without having to shift onto his side. His cheek has marks from the pillow case pressed into it, and Gwaine finds himself smiling at it. Merlin smiles back at him.

“What time is it?” he asks sleepily.

Gwaine shifts onto his back, and slaps at the clock display on his bedside table. It displays, in pale blue holographic numbers, 1300. They both must have been more tired than they thought.

“I thought you would have one of those computers that can be voice activated to start your coffee for you.” Merlin remarks.

“Ah, I do actually,” Gwaine says cheerfully, “But I think they’re creepy.”

Merlin grins, “Me too. We have them on the Camelot, and I never use them if I can get away with it.”

“Are you up for some lunch, or should I continue to stay and give you what are very necessary snuggles?” 

“Other than the Omelet, I haven’t eaten since… Friday? Saturday? What day are we on?”

“Monday.” Gwaine answers.

Merlin groans spectacularly and buries his whole face in the pillow. Gwaine stifles a chuckle at his antics, and pats him on the back.

“I’ll take that as ‘Gwaine, I know your skills are unparalleled in the bedroom, but I am much too starved to appreciate them properly’, and go make lunch.” 

Merlin works one arm free of the blankets in order to flip him off, and Gwaine bends down to press a kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck. He slips from the bed once more, and heads into the kitchen. He can’t actually remember the last time he went shopping, so it’s a bit of a scramble to dig through his fridge in search of something that isn’t just another omelet.

When Gwaine walks in a few minutes later carrying two plates with some rather pathetic sandwiches, Merlin is sitting up in bed, hunched over his comm like it may spontaneously alert him to the answers he’s searching for. Gwaine sets the plates down on the bedside table, and snatches the comm out of Merlin’s hand.

“Oh no you don’t.” he says when Merlin tries to snatch it back, “I’m not going to let you waste what time we have together stressing over your comm. It will alert you to any messages that come through.”

“But what if I don’t hear it?”

“Merlin.” Gwaine says warningly.

Merlin rolls his eyes, “Fine. Fine. I won’t look at it unless an alert sounds.”

“Good man,” Gwaine says good naturedly and passes one of the plates over, “Now eat your sandwich.”

*

Merlin stays for three months, and it is the best three months of Gwaine’s life, and he’s including the time he spent three months sleeping his way through a series of increasingly kinky people in Canada. Being with Merlin is easy. He makes Gwaine smile more than he ever has, and they spend most of their days bumming around Dublin.

Gwaine was never particularly attached to his hometown, but there’s something about getting to share his old haunts with Merlin that’s just magical. It’s sharing a part of himself that no one else gets to see with the security that he won’t lose any of the reputation he’s built. Merlin still calls him ridiculous, and teases him lightly about the shenanigans he got up to as a young lad. One day, when they’re standing outside the bar where Gwaine had his first legal drink, Merlin says “I should show you Ealdor some time. My mum would probably love you.”

Gwaine once more waits for the warning bell to go off in his head. He’s never been someone you bring home to your parents, he’s never wanted to be. The alarm stays firmly silent. Instead he finds himself grinning, kissing Merlin, and saying, “I’d like that.”

Merlin gets the call one evening halfway through some crappy film about a straight man discovering himself, and disappears into Gwaine’s bedroom to take the vidcon. Gwaine pretends not to listen to the rise and fall of Merlin and Arthur’s voices.

Merlin emerges a few minutes later looking relieved and a bit pissed off.

“It was Valliant.” Merlin says by way of explanation.

“Bloke from security?”

“Yeah. Guess he’s been pulling this shit on smaller things for years, and thought no one would notice,” Merlin sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, “That was Arthur calling to tell us we were cleared to fly again.”

“When do you leave?”

“Two weeks. Just long enough to complete an inspection of Camelot.”

Gwaine ignores the way pain radiates from his heart to his fingertips, and elbows Merlin playfully, “Well I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the back of you.”

“Please. You love me.”

“Only a little.”

Merlin smiles, and looks at Gwaine out of the corner of his eye, “With Valliant gone, we have another position open.”

“Still not certified. Besides, security isn’t really my thing.”

“We’re missing a copilot too, if you’d rather do that.”

Gwaine smiles, and tugs Merlin into his chest. One day Merlin is going to ask, and Gwaine is going to be helpless to say no.


	5. Chapter 5

They flop onto their backs, sweaty, sticky, breathless, and satisfied. Next to him, Merlin lets out a breathless laugh and drops his arm over his eyes. Gwaine sends him an amused look, and trails his knuckles up Merlin’s exposed ribcage.

“Something funny?”

“No. Just,” Merlin chuckles again with a shake of his head, “we’re really good at that.”

“So you finally admit that I’m the best lover you’ve ever had!” Gwaine declares, and Merlin whacks him lightly with a pillow.

Gwaine yanks the pillow from Merlin’s grip, and shifts himself onto his elbows so he can drop a kiss on Merlin’s lips. The hand Merlin isn’t using to cover his eyes tangles in Gwaine’s hair, and tugs him closer. The kiss deepens, warm and sweet, but they’ve burned off the desperate need for one another. That is certainly not a feat Gwaine would have ever thought possible, but it’s true. 

Something changed when Merlin stayed with him in Dublin. Gwaine is still driven mad with lust over Merlin most days, it would be difficult to avoid unless you were ace. Merlin is all deep knowing eyes, high cheekbones, and sly smiles. He makes Gwaine’s heart pound, but there’s something else too. It runs deeper than the infatuation and lust. It’s that he still wants to be with Merlin once he’s gone, still wants to be with Merlin even though his clumsiness has stopped being cute and is starting to verge on the exasperating. He still wants to be with Merlin even though his first love will always be The Camelot.

Gwaine has never properly experienced this before, he has nothing to compare it to, but he thinks it might be love. Isn’t that what love is? Wanting to be with someone even when you’re wise to their faults? He thinks he read that in a book somewhere.

He rests his chin on Merlin’s shoulder, then dips his head to press a kiss there as well just because he can. Merlin pulls his arm away from his eyes, and smiles down at Gwaine with one of his grins that crinkles his entire face. He combs his fingers through Gwaine’s hair, and Gwaine hums softly. Merlin’s fingers in his hair might be his new favorite sensation.

“I wish we had more time.” Merlin says, sounding wistful and a little sad.

“How long do we have?” Gwaine asks, dropping an arm over Merlin’s waist and settling in.

They’re back in Merlin’s bed in Merlin’s crummy little flat. It should feel like a downgrade after several months of living in the penthouse flat in Dublin with its marble counter tops, expensive kitchen, and computer activated amenities, but it doesn’t. Gwaine likes that Merlin’s flat is just big enough for two and that you have to make tea by hand. He likes the fine layer of dust that clings to everything because Merlin is always out getting into trouble on far away worlds.

“Two weeks.” Merlin answers.

Gwaine wishes they had more time too. It’s certainly better than the twenty-four hour turn around that precipitated his unexpected stay in Dublin, but Gwaine wants them to spend every moment together if they can. He wants the chance to get sick of Merlin instead of always pining after him. He could never ask Merlin to give up The Camelot, it’s his home more than this crap flat with its comfortable bed. To holds his family. Gwaine will do the mature thing, and wait out this almost-relationship until they can figure out what to do.

He won’t give up on Merlin just because the going is tougher than he would like. Gwaine may be a reckless fool, but he isn’t an idiot. His life was irrevocably changed the night Merlin brought him home and patched him up. He has no desire to go back to the life he was leading before Merlin came into it. Shockingly, he is in this for the long haul.

“We’ll make the most of it like we always do.” Gwaine promises.

He doesn’t even punctuate that sentence with a dirty squeeze of Merlin’s hip. He must be well and truly smitten. He smiles to himself at the thought. Figures he would become smitten with someone nearly as reckless as him.

“What are you thinking about?” Merlin asks sleepily.

Gwaine presses another kiss to Merlin’s collarbone, and answers honestly, “You.”

Merlin’s face crinkles up into another one of those amazed grin, and Gwaine fits his thumb into one of the dimples just because he can. He spends a lot of time with his hands on Merlin just because he can, and he is grateful that Merlin doesn’t seem to mind. Merlin turns his head and presses a kiss to Gwaine’s thumb.

“What about me?”

“Mostly how lucky I am to have someone as gorgeous as you in my bed.”

Merlin snorts and tugs a little on Gwaine’s hair, “Pot, kettle. Besides, I’d say you’re more lucky that I don’t mind that you can be a bit of a pervert.”

Gwaine gasps as though he’s been wounded, and collapses onto Merlin’s chest, wailing, “You have besmirched my honor!”

Merlin bursts into laughter, and it lights the entire room in golden light. Gwaine will never get sick of that laugh.

“Have I really?” Merlin asks with a teasing lift of his eyebrows, “Did you or did you not just pin my wrists above my head so I couldn’t move?”

“Heat of the moment.” Gwaine dismisses, but he’s smiling too.

“Right. Heat of the moment.” Merlin agrees, and strokes the skin between Gwaine’s shoulder blades. 

Gwaine kisses Merlin’s chest, and makes no effort to move. He’s happy like this, content to spend the rest of his days exactly where he is. Wrapped in cheap grey cotton sheets, pressed warm and sated against Merlin. Right now it doesn’t even matter that they’re still sticky with sweat and other less savory substances, or that any minutes now this angle is going to give Gwaine a hip twinge because he’d injured it in motorbike accident at eighteen. He’s safe, warm, and potentially in love.

“You’re going to stay the whole time?” Merlin asks. 

Gwaine can hear the hope in his voice, even as he tries to hide it by keeping his eyes closed. Gwaine shifts into a more comfortable position on his side, head tucked into the crook of Merlin’s neck. He presses a kiss over a mark he sucked here not ten minutes ago.

“Course I will,” he agrees, “I’ll always stay if you ask.”

“But you won’t go with me if I ask.” Merlin says, and his voice is uncharacteristically hard.

Gwaine lifts his head to look down at Merlin. His eyes are open now, and angry. Gwaine has known Merlin for the better part of two years now, but he’s never seen him angry. Not even that time when they were bumming around Dublin, and they saw a father dismissing a very obviously injured child. Merlin had been irritated and disappointed, but not angry. He’s angry now.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?”

Merlin sits up properly in bed, and Gwaine mirrors him. He has a feeling that he should take whatever is about to happen seriously, and he can’t do that lying down. Merlin’s jaw is set stubbornly, and he has his arms tucked close to his body like he’s preparing for a literal fight. 

“We’ve been seeing each other for almost two years,” Merlin says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice as though he’s fighting to remain calm, “I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else because I like _you_. I know I asked too quickly the first time. We’d only just met, and it wasn’t fair for me to ask you to come with me, but we’ve been together for two years!”

“I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else either.” Gwaine interjects. He wants, needs, Merlin to know this. His affection is returned tenfold.

Some of the fight bleeds out of Merlin at that declaration, “It would be one thing if you were just a civilian, Gwaine, but you’re not. Arthur came across your records a few months after you and I started seeing each other. Why didn’t you tell me you had one of the highest piloting scores ever recorded for Astraeus training?”

“You had no right to look through my records, Merlin.” Gwaine says darkly. He can feel his own anger building in his chest. He’d told Merlin everything, or nearly everything, about him. If he kept something hidden, it’s because he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I didn’t.” Merlin says firmly, “Arthur looked into it when I suggested bringing you on as security.”

That throws Gwaine for a loop, “You genuinely suggested bringing me on as security?”

“It requires the least amount of training to certify,” Merlin says, cheeks going red with embarrassment, “I knew you were smart enough to do almost any of the jobs on The Camelot, but I thought if I could get you to travel first then you’d be more inclined to study for something more, and you’d be with me while you were figuring it out.” 

“You really wanted me to come with you that badly?” Gwaine asks.

Merlin smiles ruefully, “I’m happy on The Camelot, and I’m happy when I’m with you. I thought bringing the two together would make me happiest.”

“I’m happy when I’m with you too, my friend.”

Merlin’s eyes fill with an awful, sad understanding, “Oh. I didn’t…”

“Wait. No.” Gwaine blurts, gripping Merlin by the shoulders, “I didn’t mean it as that. Merlin, you might be my _only_ friend.”

“Now I’m just confused.” 

Gwaine sighs, but doesn’t remove his hands from Merlin’s shoulders, “I can make friends with people wherever I go, but I never stay for them to stick and they don’t expect me to. You’re the only one who I want to stick.”

“Is this a roundabout way of saying you love me?” Merlin asks, a little smile quirking the corners of his lips, “Because I do love you too.”

“You love me?” Gwaine asks incredulously.

“Oh god. That wasn’t a confession after all, was it? You can just forget it. In fact forget this entire conversation so that I don’t keep putting my foot in my mouth.”

Gwaine lets out a joyful, surprised laugh, and hauls Merlin in for a kiss. When they pull away, Gwaine leaves his forehead resting against Merlin’s. “It was a confession. I’m pretty sure I love you.”

“Pretty sure?” Merlin teases.

“Never been in love before.” Gwaine laughs, “You’ll have to let me do some catching up.”

“I miss you when we’re not together.” Merlin admits, “Whenever I have free time on The Camelot, I think about sharing it with you. I could be arguing with Gwen about the last book we both read, and I’d think about what you’d say.”

“I miss you too.”

“Then why won’t you come with me? You’re more than qualified to copilot the Camelot.”

“I worry that I’ll commit to you, commit to the Camelot, and then a few months in realize what a massive mistake I’ve made. I worry that even though we’re going to be hopping entire solar systems, I’ll still feel trapped, or that I’ll get tired of playing pilot and just… go AWOL on some random planet.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.” Merlin says softly, thin fingers wrapped around Gwaine’s wrists, grounding him, “You’ve already committed to staying. You stayed with me even though I literally vanished to the stars the day after we met, you stayed in London so you could be there when I got home, and you were committed to me enough that you willing went back to Dublin even though you knew you could get stuck there.”

“How are you so wise for a man who also allegedly owns a collection of novelty socks?” Gwaine asks, trying to lighten the mood.

Merlin grins, “I don’t know why everyone thinks novelty socks make you a fool. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that exact insult from Arthur?”

“Can we not talk about Arthur while we’re naked and having an emotional talk?”

“Consider it payback for calling yourself my uncle back in Dublin and then making a joke about daddy kinks.”

“Fair enough.” Gwaine agrees, a smile spreading across his face.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Merlin says, suddenly serious once more, “I know it came out that way. This last voyage was the roughest since Valiant, and I kept thinking about how much I wanted you there to complain at. If you don’t want to come to space, you don’t have to. I’m happy anyway I can have you.”

“I’m happy anyway I can have you too.”

Fight apparently done for the evening, Merlin smiles wickedly, and teasingly inches the sheets down to expose the crease of his thigh, “I do mean _any way_ I can have you.”

Not be one upped, Gwaine slides his fingers up Merlin’s leg, and brushes the fingertips against the crease, “Now who’s the pervert?”

“Still you.” Merlin says with a little shiver.

“Better live up to my reputation then.”

*

Their discussion sticks with him. He spends the rest of Merlin’s leave thinking about it. Merlin is right, of course, he has committed. He didn’t think he would ever be capable of it, but he has. Merlin means the world to him, and he could no more give up Merlin than he could give up a limb. He already spends his days in Merlin’s little crappy flat doing grocery runs, and it isn’t because he has any particular love for London. He does, however, have a particular love for a certain medic.

There are benefits beyond just getting to be with Merlin, if he joins The Camelot. He would have a chance for friends other than Merlin. He and Percival got on like a house on fire at that bar night in Dublin. Gwen and Morgana regarded him with some fond amusement, and that could be a possibility too. Hell, he even likes Arthur for all they pretend to hate each other. It would be his chance for a family, maybe not the kind his mother would have wanted him to build, but one all the same. 

He’d have someplace he could call home. Gwaine would never thought he’d want that. He likes gallivanting, enjoys getting into trouble in new places, and getting to meet new people. Merlin made him want to carve out a place he could call his own. The Camelot is an opportunity to do just that.

He’s still thinking about it the morning that Merlin goes back to the Camelot. He’s never actually taken Merlin to the Astraeus base in London before, but after their discussion that first night it seems wrong to let him go alone. He carries Merlin’s duffle bag to the cab, and climbs in beside him. For an organization operating with the latest tech, there aren’t actually any public transport hubs nearby. Apparently there were too many security risks that they couldn’t button up.

So they take a cab. He keeps his hand tangled with Merlin’s, but they don’t say a word. There isn’t really anything to say. Even if Gwaine had declared in bed that night that he was going to recertify, it would have taken longer than two weeks to take the exam, get approved for travel, submit his records to open positions, and wait to hear back from Arthur. Besides, Gwaine still isn’t sure he’s ready to give in and follow. He’s being suborn, but he refuses to make a decision before thinking it through from every angle this time. The consequences if he acts rashly this time will be far more costly to him than if he was jumping into something wild here on Earth.

He has to consider Merlin’s feelings in all of this. He’s still scared that he’ll regret committing if he does it, and if he abandons ship once he’s there, Merlin will bear the brunt of the impact. He’ll bear the career repercussions for recommending him. He’ll also be left heartbroken in the wake of it all, and Gwaine hates the thought of ever hurting Merlin.

It’s better to wait. A little frustration now will be worth the prevention of heartbreak later. Therefore, Gwaine has nothing to say, and he sits silently in the back with Merlin’s hand in his.

The Astraeus base looms large as the cab pulls up. The boarding building stands squat and chrome just inside a chain link fence, and there’s the occasional flash as one of the Astraeus specific transports carries crew and supplies up to the ships somewhere high above them in Earth’s orbit. He tells the cabbie to wait, and clambers out after Merlin. He hands over the duffle and they stand there silently for a long time, just staring at each other.

“Be careful.” Gwaine says at last.

Merlin smiles, and wraps Gwaine in a tight hug which Gwaine returns, “I could say the same to you. Try not to let a snake into my flat.”

“That was one time,” Gwaine laughs, “and I got Morris back outside just fine.”

“It wasn’t even a snake native to England.” Merlin points out.

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t love you.”

“I love you too.” Merlin replies, and how can Gwaine not kiss him after that?

Gwaine gives Merlin’s shoulder one last squeeze, and hovers outside the cab until he sees Merlin disappear into the boarding building. He is reminded of those romantic comedies that were so popular in the 21st century, where someone would wait to watch their lover’s airplane take off. There’s no way of telling which flash of light is Merlin, tough, and Gwaine climbs back into the cab.

He has the cabbie take him back to Merlin’s (their?) flat. He doesn’t have any plans for the day, and they are fully stocked on groceries so there’s no reason to delay the inevitable return to the empty space. Besides, he has some research to do about recertification.


	6. Chapter 6

Recertification turns out to be a huge pain in the ass, an even bigger one than just passing the training program the first time through. He has to sit through hours of droning instructors repeating things that Gwaine had memorized at eighteen, and more hours listening to different instructors informing them of all the new updates to procedure and policy since the last time they were certified. The thing is, there haven’t been that many changes. It’s a governmental agency. Change doesn’t happen quickly.

To cap all that off, he has to sit through psych evaluations. He has to explain over and over why he turned down the position to fly the first time. He has to explain to them that he’s not trying to live in father’s footsteps, not trying to bring glory to himself for the sake of it. He can’t tell them about Merlin though. He knows as well as anybody that you aren’t meant to fraternize with the crew of your own ship for fear of conflict of interest. That concern will be only heightened because of Merlin’s position as Camelot’s medic, they could accuse him of prioritizing Gwaine’s care over someone else’s due to their personal relationship.

Gwaine keeps his mouth shut about Merlin even though Merlin is the only reason he’s ever considered dropping his bohemian lifestyle. He also doesn’t tell Merlin what’s going on. If he fails at this, he doesn’t want to have gotten Merlin’s hopes up for nothing.

He spends his days holed up in their dingy little flat, with textbooks, proper paper textbooks, spread out in front of him. He’s never worked so hard at something in his life. When he went through the training the first time, he breezed through drunk off his ass and the knowledge that if he failed he’d be fine because he didn’t want it anyway. Now, though, he wants this. He wants to be able to be with Merlin whenever he can, and not just sit around waiting for Merlin to return from the stars.

He knows that while Arthur holds Merlin in a great deal of affection, he won’t jeopardize the safety of the Camelot to make him happy. No. If Gwaine wants a shot at getting on the Camelot straight off the bat, he needs the best recertification marks of the class. He has to prove he is just as capable now as he was as a young lad who didn’t care about anything.

He can’t fathom blowing it now that he’s come this far. Anytime he wants to throw in the towel and give it all up as a lost cause, he thinks of Merlin. He remembers what it feels like waking up with Merlin tucked into bed with him. He remembers the warmth that spreads through his chest at Merlin’s laugh or smile. He even remembers Merlin’s infuriating stubbornness, and exasperating ability to knock things over that he wasn’t even standing near. He has to go in with his eyes wide open to Merlin’s faults because if he goes in picturing a fairy tale and doesn’t get it, he’ll want to bail. He has to remember that while there are things about Merlin that can dive him mad, overall he loves Merlin and Merlin makes him a better person. He’s doing this to give them a shot.

He passes the recertification with flying colors, proving that he hasn’t lost his touch after so many years on the ground. He beats out everyone else in the program, much to the confusion of the instructor who thought Gwaine would never last a day. It makes Gwaine feel a little smug, a whole lot proud, and blindingly hopeful.

He applies to all open copilot positions including the one on the Camelot. The councilor helping him apply tells him not to get his hopes up about hearing back from the Camelot, that Captain Pendragon is incredibly picky about his crew. Gwaine doesn’t tell her that he knows that already, and in fact knows Arthur quite well and would she like an autograph?

He won’t take the interviews from the other ships. He isn’t recertifying for a chance at a career, he’s recertifying for a chance with the man he loves. Even if he could eventually work his way up to flying on the Camelot eventually, he’d miss too much time due to different shore leaves and missions. It’s the Camelot or bust.

*

“I’m surprised you did this. Merlin always said you were reluctant to leave Earth.” Arthur says, gazing down at the tablet in his hands. It has all of Gwaine’s records spread out, practically his life story sitting in Arthur’s hands. It is incredibly uncomfortable, but Gwaine sticks to it. He’s doing this for Merlin.

“I think we both know that Merlin gains loyalty from the strangest of places.” Gwaine replies evenly.

Arthur’s eyes flick up to meet his, and a little amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “There’s a woman on Sobrolla 3 that tries to contact him every time we’re in the galaxy because he held her groceries once.”

Gwaine shakes his head, chuckling to himself, “That sounds like Merlin.”

“So you’re doing this for him, then?” Arthur asks, gesturing around his office.

Gwaine shrugs, and sinks back in his seat, “I miss him when he’s gone.”

“And you’re in this for the long haul? You won’t just jump ship when we dock somewhere and never return?”

Gwaine hates that Arthur has to ask, but he understands. It must look like a sudden change of heart from the outside, and not a slow gradual decent into loving someone more than wanting to remain selfish. He didn’t know from the moment he and Merlin met that he was going to end up here, but looking back it seems almost inevitable. Merlin has become his home.

“I don’t think I could. Not any longer.” He answers.

Arthur nods, and goes back to looking through Gwaine’s files, “You have better scores than any of the people who have held this position in the last three years. I suppose I could hire you, on a trial basis of course.”

Gwaine grins and leans across the desk to punch Arthur lightly on the shoulder, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Merlin’s quarters are down the hall, third corridor to the right, fifth door down on the left.” Arthur responds, looking a little pained. He’s probably noticing the implication of telling his best mate’s boyfriend where his quarters are, and feeling a little grossed out by the idea he’s setting them up for some fantastic reunion sex. That isn’t Gwaine’s problem.

“See you on the bridge.” Gwaine says cheekily as he hops to his feet, and Arthur groans.

“This was a spectacularly bad idea.” Arthur says as Gwaine opens the door.

Gwaine just laughs and says, “You say that until we get into a tight spot only I can fly us out of, Sir.”

The door hisses shut behind him, and Gwaine sets off down the halls of the Camelot. Everything is made out of a smooth white metal, and dark metal railings run the length of all the halls as something to grab onto in case of space turbulence. The carpet is the same dark grey as the safety railings.

Crewmembers that aren’t a part of Arthur’s inner circle pass him, eyeing him with curiosity. He’s still in his civvies because getting him a uniform wasn’t going to happen in the short stop over the Camelot has before taking off. He must make an odd sight with his long hair, and scruffy chin, and lack of identifying uniform. He just grins at every curious glance until he gets to Merlin’s quarters.

He takes a steadying breath, and forces away his nerves. Merlin has asked him over and over to come, he’s not going to suddenly change his mind because Gwaine finally took up the offer. He has a feeling Merlin is a little upset with him at the moment because Gwaine lied about being out of town in order to make the interview with Arthur. He just didn’t want Merlin to get suspicious or get his hopes up, just in case Arthur really didn’t trust anyone without practical flying experience.

He knocks on the door.

He hears grumbling from inside, and Merlin’s voice saying, “Gwen I just got in! I can’t possibly help organize medbay—” then the door slides open. Merlin’s face is all pinched up in a scowl, but when he sees Gwaine it fades away to be replaced by delight and surprise.

“You wanker! I thought you were out of town!” Merlin exclaims.

Gwaine grins and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Is that any way to speak to the newest copilot of the Camelot?”

Merlin freezes with his hand halfway extended to Gwaine, “What?”

“Just finished the interview process with Arthur. I’m to report to the bridge tomorrow at 0800.”

“You’re kidding.” Merlin says, regarding him like he might pull the rug out from under him at any moment.

“I thought you’d be pleased.” Gwaine says uncertainly.

Merlin’s whole face breaks into one of those sunshine grins of his and he launches himself at Gwaine. For all that Merlin looks like a stiff breeze could snap him in half, he’s solidly built. Gwaine knows the strength and solidity quite well, has spent many an afternoon and evening with it pinning him to their bed. Now it’s being launched at him full force, and it’s all he can do to hang on, and not let Merlin bowl them both over.

Merlin buries his nose in Gwaine’s neck, and says, “I thought you didn’t want to come.”

“For you, Merlin, I’d go anywhere.” Gwaine says solemnly and presses a kiss to Merlin’s temple, “Even to the stars.”


End file.
